


The Grumpy Old Men's Club

by ArtHistory



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, Stuffing, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: Bill is sick of things escalating. Too much is happening, and it can't keep spiraling without something really bad happening.So he stops accepting rewards.He didn't exactly realize this meant the Entity might get...bloated.They find a way to reward Bill, and eventually Tapp, which leads to some...unexpected results/
Relationships: Bill Overbeck/David Tapp
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	1. Conscientious Objector

**Author's Note:**

> Kink fic about old men getting fat and getting together. First chapters are more plot-heavy, just enjoying fleshing out how DBD works in my head. I hope you'll enjoy. If you're mega horny and just need to get off, check out another, shorter fic! or jump ahead to later chapters.

It was for their own good, at least he told himself that.

The Entity was an overdramatic bitch, and Bill was sure of that. Serial killers plucked people out of thin air and killed them all the time, but this? This was something else. Making them run trials. Giving them different maps, outfits, hell even tools to blind and stun the killers - the Entity was in this entirely for the Drama. And Bill didn’t like that.

None of it was good, but in his staunch, old-man opinion, the tools were what was making things worse. 

The younger, louder survivors had just as much fun as a killers did. Chasing them around the map. Blinding them with flashlights. Popping out of lockers and knocking them on their asses. He’d even sworn he’d seen some of them start *flirting* with the eight foot tall sociopaths. Chests, toolboxes, damn flowers to burn in the campfire - or al encouraged escalation. It was all designed so that these kids would fight these much faster, much stronger psychos. 

Well he was done with it.

Rewards given to him by the Entity were ignored. Left unused around his space in the survivors camp, or flat out brought an abandoned in trials.

The Entity’s first response seemed mild.

Better toolboxes. Rarer offerings. Hell even a sweater.

All of it ignored. Bill wasn't playing. He had the clothes on his back, and since he'd been pulled into this realm with half a pack of smokes, three constantly regenerating cigarettes. He had what he needed, he couldn't be conned into this sick little game.

The fit, white haired man grinned at the sky one day, and swore he heard a rumble above him.

“What is it, huh? You gotta reward us for going through trials or the whole system gets junked up? You sitting up there bloated and gassy from me not wanting your shit?” Bill mocked, kicking one of the dozen tool boxes he'd been ‘gifted’, before lifting a particularly rare Rainbow Map and hurling it like a spear into the darkness.

“Well fuck you! I ain't playin. I don't care how it throws you off - I ain't accepting any damn rewards.” Bill shouted, extending his middle finger in a gesture of later-regretted defiance.

Lightning flashed across the sky.

Things escalated. 

Any trial Bill entered was a death trap. Tiny maps. Multiple Lit Totems. Hooks even damn foot. He was quick, a natural survivor, but his...dumber companions were starting to make it to Exit Gates less and less until finally trials were barely lasting three minutes. He crouched behind a pile of rubble, watching each of his companions fall to flying hatches the moment the game began.

That was the final straw.

“Alright, you rat bastard.” Bill shouted to the dark grey sky, “I know what you're doing, and you know what I'm doing, so it looks like we're at an impasse.” 

This time he definitely heard a rumble.

“I don’t want your damn rewards. I don’t want these kids escalating any of this shit further. I don’t want flashlights or pebbles or…” Bill trialed off. He rubbed a hand over his weathered face, exhaling a long breath. His mouth tasted of stale tobacco. The cigs were the same ones he’d found half-crushed in his last hours on apocalyptic Earth, and fuck if they weren’t disgusting.

“I want a damn cigar.”

It was almost as if the Entity sighed.

A gentle sound, the same one that smoothed like warm molasses around a packed dining hall when gluttons unbuttoned their pants. The relief of releasing a bloated gut from a prison of belted denim.

And in Bill’s hand was a cigar.

A damn nice one, too. Clearly expensive. Cuban. Bill couldn’t stop himself from running it under his nose, breathing in its wrapping, the rich scent of it. His light was replaced, now gorgeously silver, shining. It lit on the first try.

Bill took in a long, slow breath. The smoke he exhaled was *fragrant*, warm. He looked to his feet, spying a complete box.

“Alright” He said, with only a little unease, “If this is your idea of compromise. I’ll take it. But fuckin lay off antagonizing those kids. You know the last rounds haven’t been fair.”

A dull, deep rumbling.

Did the Entity...belch?


	2. Aged Like Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's easier to blow off steam when you've got booze. If only they had booze...

Trials continued. They were still a little overblown, at first, as if the Entity was burning off holiday weight on a treadmill pumped to Level 10. Chests were everywhere. Hooks were everywhere. Trials lasted ages or sixty seconds. Things were clearly still too jello-like around the Entity’s waistline.

“Fuck me, I need a drink.”

Bill couldn’t help but chuckle as Detective Tapp settled down next to him, inviting himself into his area of the camp like they’d known each other for decades. And it felt like they had. Bill was a good 30 years older than the original survivors, so having another man in his 50’s summoned in gave him a pal to roll his eyes with. The muscular black man was law enforcement, Bill was a former soldier. They were two rigid, grumpy old men. It was a match made in Heaven. Or at least wherever they were now.

“I’ve needed a drink for a long fuckin time.” Bill grumbled in kind, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the tree he was propped against. Tapp was always fun to commiserate with. 

“I mean a real drink, Bill. Hillbilly’s moonshine burns too hard when it goes down.”

Bill’s eyes opened, and his mouthed dropped even as an impressed smile spread across his face.

“What?” Tapp said, grinning in kind, “You think it’s just these young punks that can sneak around in the Killers’ realms? I was a damn good detective.”

“You son of a bitch!” Bill cackled, “You got moonshine and you were holding out on me?!”

“More like paint thinner! No wonder he looks like that.” Tapp laughed, the two of them chuckling until they both sighed, sides aching. Bill wiped a tear from his eye, then perked up.

“Hey! I got somethin…” He looked around, then dusted a few leaves away from the top of a small, neat box, before popping it open and presenting Tapp with-

“A cigar?” Tapp nearly gasped, taking it from Bill’s hand and taking a deep whiff.

Bill knew he liked this guy.

“Where the hell did you get cigars?”

“Entity.” Bill shrugged, almost chuckling at it, the sky above them rumbling.

Tapp straightened, moving to put the cigar back into the box.

“No no! It’s okay! Not a trick. We got some kind of...deal worked out. Apparently that fucker got all bloated cause I wasn’t taking his shit. This is...a way to burn that off.” Bill said, trying his best to explain.

Tapp’s brows knitted together.

“Just like that? Shit man, I don’t know…” He said, then blinked.

“Whiskey.”

“What?”

“I want a bottle of whiskey. And the good stuff. Aged in French Oak. With a port finish.”

“I don’t think that’ll-”

*RUMBLE*

There, on a silver tray, was a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses with ice.

“Fuck me” Bill breathed.

“Let me get a drink in me first” Tapp grinned, Bill giving the old man a punch to the shoulder.

In a moment they were toasting, and in a moment after that feeling warm and content, puffing on cigars, bellies full of whiskey.

“Now I could get used to this.” Tapp sighed. Bill couldn’t agree more.


	3. Discovering Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The overeating Chapter. Starts getting kinky here

Trials continued to be a madhouse, as if the Entity couldn’t shed the weight it’d gained. After one trial, where Bill swore he’d seen no less than two Michael Myers teleporting around the map, he and Tapp collapsed with one Ace Visconti around Bill’s spot in the camp.

“Ooof, my back” The Italian gambler complained

“Your back? You should feel the knot in my shoulder” Tapp griped

“I’ll complain about my knee, complete our old-man-complaint trifecta.” 

Ace laughed at this, his little pot belly wobbling under his patterned shirt in a way that seemed alien to the fit former soldier and detective. Ace gave it a rub, wobbling his palm back and forth like a man more than comfortable with his body.

“Times like this when I wish I could get my hands on some booze.” He sighed, almost dreamily, as if imagining himself with a glass in his hand.

Tapp and Bill looked to one another.

“We uh...might be able to help with that.” Tapp offered.

Ace looked between both of them, head cocked to the side. 

Bill nodded, and Tapp eagerly dusted off the small, slightly buried box near their feet.

Out came the whiskey and cigars, and soon they were lighting up and toasting.

“To the Grumpy Old Men’s Club?” Tapp offered. 

Bill wheezed.

“We are NOT calling it-”

“To the Grumpy Old Men’s Club!” Ace beamed, eagerly knocking back his glass with a pleased sigh. He took a long drag of his cigar, letting out a cloud of rich smoke. Clearly a man who knew how to indulge, he poured himself another glass, then insisted on topping off Bill and Tapp’s, in spite of their protests.

A little ways later and the three men were drunk. Huddled together, hiccupping against a massive pine, Ace slurred out more questions.

“So you...the Entity...and now he gives you stuff?”

“Sure does!” Bill said, the drink swelling up his pride, “Fat bastard. Now he’s spittin out anything we-”

“Empanadas.” Ace said, concretely.

“What?”

“I want empanada-”

The smell hit Bill first.

Fried, fatty. Absolutely decadent.

There, laid out before them, was a towering platter of fried, Spanish pastry.

Ace snatched one up, Tapp blinking himself awake as Bill nudged him, both watching Ace sink his sparkling white teeth into the treat.

“Mmmph” The Italian man moaned, “Definitely...definitely not poison.” He sighed, licking the grease from his lips.

Tapp looked to Bill. Bill looked to Tapp.

And they were both drunk enough to eagerly grab two of the crispy calorie bombs.

The next few minutes were consumed with the sound of chewing, swallowing, followed by moans and belching.

Tapp and Bill leaned into one another. Their chins shined with oil, hands leaving stains of it on their shirts as both men rubbed remarkably overfed, distended guts.

“Fuck that was-*HURP*” Bill belched, hissing as he brought his hand underneath the shirt beneath his open jacket. He hadn’t eaten like that since his soldier days, and his eyes went wide as a round, taut, gurgling gut kissed in white hair came into view.

“I feel like a Rookie again” Tapp chuckled, an open palm giving Bill’s gut a sharp *slap*, rocketting another belch out of the vet.

“Look like one too, fat boy” Bill grinned, tugging Tapp’s button-up, revealing the officer’s smooth, brown gut to the air, slapping it in kind.

“Hey hey, come on guys” Ace hiccuped. His little pot danced eagerly at the jolt, but he looked nowhere near as full as his companions. Decades of overindulgence had taught exactly how to indulge. He was tipsy, full, and content, while his friends were overfilled, drunk, and-

“No come on! Which of us is fatter?” Tapp said, definitely, sitting up straight as he took his shirt from Bill’s hands, both of them swaying lightly, looking more like their college-selves than their normally stoic, hardened personas. 

Bill tried to suck in, but that only made the sharp *blorp* of his belly more pronounced, his and Tapp’s eagerly rolling over the buttons of their pants. 

Ace’s hands found both of them.

“Your both fat asses” He chuckled, rubbing cool hands up and down the front of both men’s bloated middles.

No words were spoken, but Tapp and Bill felt color rising to their cheeks, endorphins flooding their minds as Ace gently massaged their distended middles, both men keeping their shirts in their hands, as if the slightest movement might break whatever spell this was.

It was a boom of thunder overhead, sounding uniquely like a laugh, that jolted each of them into reality.

Tapp hurriedly pulled his shirt down, he and Ace jumping up and dusting themselves off.

“W-Well that was uh...nice night, Bill” Tapp coughed, smoothing out his shirt and quickly pacing off into the night.

“Yeah that was uh…” Ace added, making an about-face and marching off.

Bill blinked, flushed. 

Another boom of thunder.

“Oh, fuck off, you.” Bill grumbled. He rolled over onto his side, closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

His hand never left his belly.


	4. Discovering Common Affection

The next day there were waffles.

A lot of them.

“I don’t want these.” Bill insisted, marching off.

He and Tapp worked together in the next trial. They joked a bit. Saved each other a few times.

Neither mentioned last night.

When Bill arrived back, the waffles were somehow still warm - and this time smothered in syrup, melted butter, and whipped cream.

“Look, I said I don’t want-”

“Hey”

Bill turned at Tapp’s voice, finding the man holding two tall glasses of what looked like champagne.

“Did the Entity leave you- Oh. Well. The mimosas make sense now.” Tapp said, forcing a chuckled, even as a bead of sweat formed at his temple.

Bill fumed.

“Why is this- Look, Ace asked for food. Not us. We don’t want-” Bill said, then stopped, feeling a little insane for yelling into the sky, even if he did know that bloated bastard was up there. Or was he?

A sharp gust of wind, and suddenly there was a table instead of a platter beneath those waffles, along with a second serving. Two candles sat in the middle of them.

Tapp flushed.

“W-Woah listen! Last night was just uh-”

“Yeah of course! I just-”

“Fuck” Tapp griped, knocking back his champagne without thinking, coughing as it refilled instantly.

“Shit” Bill said, looking anywhere but towards the detective.

“Just...gimme that” He asked, extending his hand. Tapp handed him the glass, and Bill sipped it. Champagne was too sweet, he’d told himself. He’d lied. He took another sip.

“We’re just...a couple of old dudes that get along.” Tapp offered, swirling his champagne.

“Exactly! Just…” Both men’s eyes met. They looked away.

Another gust of wind, and the candles were gone.

Bill chuckled. Relief flooded him, but suddenly something ached in the pit of his stomach.

“Well that’s much...that’s better.” Tapp said, trying to cover up a similar and oh-so-sudden pain.

“Exactly! That was my...biggest concern.” Bill lied, “I’d...I like waffles.” He offered.

They sat down.

The first minutes passed in silence, but soon enough they were talking, and then talking like old friends.

“Oi, watch the syrup, old man, you’re gonna end up like Ace!” Tapp teased, his eyes sparkling over his fourth, fifth mimosa? He’d honestly lost count. It was actually closer to his seventh.

“What?! You got some nerve, I saw you add more butter to that stack, fat ass.” Bill teased back, chuckling, “*You’re* the Ace, here!”

“Oh yeah?” Tapp said, mouth full of waffle, “Then show me those abs then! Unless your-”

Bill eagerly tugged up his shirt. That same round, white belly spilled out. It gurgled happily, especially once Bill gave a few taps to his side.

“See? Fit as ever” He said, hiccupping, causing the bloated mass to jump in kind.

“Fit?!” Tapp mocked, flowing right back into the previous evening’s game, “You look like a keg! What are we, college sophomores?”

“I know I’m not, but what about you, piggy?”

Tapp roll his shirt up in an instant, letting that gorgeous mound of brown flood out, bumping the table in its fullness.

“See? Trim as the day I made detective!”

“So you were a fat detective, then?”

In a moment they were up, moving around the table and slotting their guts next to one another.

“Damn! You’re looking bloated their, vet! Food at the VA that fattening?”

“Yeah right, I can’t even hear you over all that grub you’re digesting! I thought that thing about cops and doughnuts was a lie, but this gut clearly proves it!”

Hands hands roamed over bloated bellies, and soon Tapp and Bill were shirtless, eagerly running their fingers along each other’s distended waistlines, before bringing their guts together, letting them kiss, navel to navel, both men muscling down a few belches as their hands stroked each other’s rounded sides.

“Looking fat, Tapp” Bill panted, swallowing hard

“Looking piggish yourself” Tapp offered, before his lips tasted warm tobacco, his hands threading into Bill’s hair as Bill’s needily locked onto his muscular ass, then two of them bucking their bellies into one another, rolling in the pine needles at their feet, kissing desperately atop their shed shirts as they fumbled with their pants.

A boom in the sky, this one definitely a laugh.


	5. The Effects of Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the fat!!!

“This might be gettin out of hand.”

Tapp exhaled, the Velcro of his bullet-proof vest crying out before giving way, leaving the overfed detective in what was essentially a bullet-proof crop-top.

The stretch of fabric only just covered the detective’s chest, which had swelled into a pair of generous moobs, hugging them tightly enough to give their outline and pad them into looking more like the muscle that still laid beneath them. 

It did nothing so flattering for the man’s gut.

It hugged tight to the top of it, digging into the rolls at the man’s sides and forcing them downwards, making Tapp’s dark love handles bulge even further at his sides, the thick roll of fat traveling around his back, padding him out into an ocean of smooth brown from behind. His gut was wide, bulging out before him completely bare, sticking out, but not sagging, over the button of his pants. Bill’s hands fell onto, *squeezed* and *kneaded* the beefy lower lip of blubber below his navel.

“Might be? It got out of hand a looong while ago, blubber butt”

Tapp’s head lolled back, resting on Bill’s thickened shoulder. Even stretched as it was Tapp’s once muscular neck looked thickened, padded all the way up to his double chin and rounded cheeks, which were folded into a smile, crinkling around his eyes.  
“You’re one to talk, piggy”

Bill happily let his hands be tugged up, pinned above his head. His arms wobbled as much as his lover’s, the two shirtless men’s biceps looking more like sausages that traced down to plump, pudgy fingers. Tapp’s hand locked onto Bill’s overflowing love handle, giving it a rough shake, turning the man’s jello-like gut into a sea of wobbles. Bill keeps his hands above his head as Tapp smooth his fingers to the bottom of Bill’s gut, hefting it up and letting it *drop* decadently, bouncing it beneath his fingers as he sucked a bright mark onto the bearded man’s neck.

“Things are...fuck.” Bill said, panting as Tapp took a step back, the detective shedding his too-small vest.

“Fuck” Bill repeated, almost astounded as he grabbed two handfuls of his lower belly, gave them a quake of his own, “Things are really out of hand.”

The two men looked over each other for a moment. The weight had really piled on after that first breakfast, and it seemed like if they weren’t in a trial they were scurrying off together to desperately gorge and fuck. It felt like every day they were waking up bigger. Wider. Fatter. 

Bill sucked in a breath through his teeth as Tapp turned around.

“So you’re getting sick of this?” Tapp grinned, hefting each wide, fat cheek of his still-clothed bubble butt and letting them drop. *Bounce*. 

“Fuck no. Gods. Never.” Bill purred, his hands *clapping* to either side of those cheeks, giving them a deeply need *spank* before turning Tapp around and kissing him once more.

“No I...we’ve got to slow down. We’re already-”  
“Fat?” Tapp said, chuckling

Bill grinned.  
“Very fat.”

“Maybe we need a...a last hurrah, before we figure out how to just...coast.” Tapp offered.

Bill nodded, some part of his mind eager for any excuse to keep eating, keep gorging.

“You know...we haven’t invited Ace over in a while…”


End file.
